It's a Song
by nleslie
Summary: Drake's wanting something he knows he can't have. Oneshot, Drake/Mindy, Josh/Mindy. R


Josh.

You wonder why I act like I dislike her? Why I acted like I was stupid from the moment she came to this school? You're supposed to be the intelligent one here, you do know that, right? It's the way it has been for a long time, ever since we became brothers. For the longest time I was afraid you would figure it out. But now it's becoming more obvious that you never will, so I chill and try and take it as it comes, no matter how hard it may be to do so.

She walks into the classroom like she owns it. I don't know if that's only what I see, but that is how I see it. She sits two places from me, opposite you, and then she focuses right to the front. I know she knows I watch her, and I also know it gives her some kind of twisted ecstasy. I really can't help but watch her, to see what she's wearing, how she's done her hair. I never notice those things when I have other girls. Well, that's not really an accurate term: It's not like I've ever really had her in the first place, so I can't really compare her like that. Saying that is something you won't ever experience, I can't even begin to explain how much that hurts. Why, Josh, will you not experience that want? Because she loves you. She says it every time we're thrust in the same room together.

Often it's only us in the room. If that's the case, she likes to take advantage of the situation. She kisses me, and I don't like to reciprocate but after dreaming about her for so long it's not an easy thing to refuse. She is brilliant, more than you know. She knows I want her and I have to have her, and she knows it's only natural for me to hope that she feels the same. But she knows that I fill with guilt the next time I see you. Every time that happens, I desperately wish that I'll go to bed and wake up the next morning feeling absolutely nothing for her. Indifference. You may not believe me, but I would give anything to stop wanting her.

Easier said than done.

I look from a closer distance than you think, you know. All you seem to see is my fake-gag every time you two lock lips, but I always see so much more, and that often makes me wonder if you're blind or just totally stupid. I like to think it's the latter. And yes, I know what that word means, Josh.

So school is torturous enough, and then you bring her home. You know that Megan is in high school and we are responsible for driving her back home after school, and how she always calls shotgun. You drive, Megan flips through the radio stations just to piss us off, and there am I, sitting pressed up beside her. There is enough room for two more of her, yet she insists that she is up, right up beside me. I can't tell her to move: that will get me a ton of crap from all three of you. So I hold my tongue, literally it seems, as the way her curves are netting into me is making me crave her lips so bad-

There I go again. Every minute of the day it seems, do I think of her and her fucking mouth, or her body. It's torture. And I bet you feel the same way, though it's not a torture but rather a fantasy that'll come true for you the next time you are alone with her.

I've written songs. I play them sometimes, live or otherwise. The rest of my band have no clue what the hell I'm playing so I go solo. Audience has no idea about this new song from hottie Drake, and I give no introduction. I sing about her, and you, and how it tears me up inside.

My life sometimes seems like a dream, or even a movie. A horrible, 'Bad Movie Tuesday' kind of movie where every word is filled with unnecessary emphasis and stupid metaphors construct the dialogue. Overreacting? Hell, yes I'm overreacting. You'd overreact too if you had to sit through watching and hearing your brother please the girl you've wanted so much for so long. You haven't felt that- I know you haven't. Not when I was with Lucy, or Jana or Morgan or Amy. Those were just minor annoyances that I'd bring home and you'd have to put up with.

Big freaking deal. Seriously.

I'll get over it, you know. One day soon: I can sense it. I'll find someone better than her. Someone kinder, that's for sure. Who doesn't see my music as noise and who definitely doesn't tease me one minute then hop into my brother's bed the next.

I've written about all of this, every word and every melody I've sung about it, you've heard it. You're always there, I know. Yet you never confront me about it after my shows, or ever for that matter. So this just leads me to the conclusion that you don't know. And so I write this letter that I'll probably end up trashing, just like the fifty sum-odd ones before it.

My life is a song. A stupid song.

Though I like to think it isn't quite that clichéd.

**Ok, there goes my first D&J.**

**Tell me what you think guys. Constructive crit is always appreciated, and I know I can always do better, so no dramas. :)**

**Oh, and if anyone can get the reference in the 'my life sometimes seems like a dream...' chapter, you get five cookies and a coupon for a free pizza slice at Chucky Cheese.**

**Now there's an offer you can't refuse! (Hint: Stay you'll stay with me, I am all alone)**

**Haha! Have an awesome day, guys. )**

**Nora.**


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